Title: Ooh, Pretty
By: x freak
Notes: Feedback and constructive criticism of ALL kinds are appreciated. Many thanks to Grey for beta reading and general encouragement.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Whoa, check this out." Warrick stood beside their kidnap victim's unmade bed, holding out a magazine for Nick to see.

"Ooh, our vic is into pretty boys." Returning to his search for evidence, Nick rummaged through the night stand on his side of the bed and discovered nothing of value. Straightening, he found Warrick staring at him, magazine still suspended in the air and mouth slightly open. "What? You're not going to tell me that it's dangerous to be a pretty boy in this town?"

Shaking his head as if that cleared his shock, Warrick turned back to his work, almost indifferent. "You'd know what it's like to be a pretty boy in this town."

It was Nick's turn to gape. "Are you calling me a pretty boy?"

"Oh, hey. What have we here?" Warrick squatted and retrieved a royal blue fiber sample, jumping when Nick appeared next to him.

"This conversation is not over, man."

"What conversation?" Grissom asked from behind them. The unexpected comment prompted Nick to jump so hard that he knocked Warrick off balance and had to wrap an arm around his waist to keep him from toppling. A little shaky from the heated exchange between them, Nick excused himself rather abruptly and left the room.

Once in the hall, breathing deeply, he heard Grissom's perplexed voice. "What just happened?"

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

At the end of a successful double shift, they rescued the senator's son, now safely back in daddy's smothering presence. Nick tilted his head to the left and then the right before rolling his shoulders and feeling older at every pop.

"Nick?"

Following the voice, he found his boss standing in the open doorway to his office.

"May I speak to you for a minute?"

He shrugged. "Sure."

"Close the door behind you."

Frowning, he did so and remained standing. Still too jittery to sit, he perched himself against the wall just behind where the door would open if someone else came in.

"This is off the record, nothing at all to do with business."

Now, that had him intrigued, Grissom getting personal. Will wonders never cease? "Okay."

"Why don't you just tell him?"

"Tell who what?" Stonewalling generally worked when the adrenaline rush threatened to carry him away.

Grissom gave him a knowing look. "Nicky, there's only one thing I know of that would spook you that bad after your mishap with Warrick."

Before he had a chance to reply, there was a knock on the door and it opened. The newcomer spoke, oblivious to Nick's presence. "Is it your place or mine this time?"

The words were benign enough, but the suggestive tone tilted Nick's world on its axis. Gaping, his gaze moved from Grissom's mortified expression to Brass' deathly pale one as he stepped into sight.

"Oh, shit, Gil," Brass blurted. At Grissom's shooing motion, he retreated fast and slammed the door in his wake.

"You and Brass?"

Grissom sighed. "I don't suppose there's any point in denying it." He flopped down into his chair, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms.

"I'm glad for you."

"What?" Replacing his glasses, the older man squinted at Nick.

"You deserve to have someone. Who better to understand the hours than a co-worker?"

The grin made him extremely uncomfortable. "Exactly, Nicky. Who's better suited to a CSI than another CSI?"

Backing up slowly, Nick ran into the wall as Grissom circled his desk, an almost predatory gleam in his eyes. "We're not talking about you and Brass anymore, are we?"

Grissom gave a quick shake of the head. "No."

"You saying I should ask Sara out?"

"Ah, yes. The self-professed ladies' man." Smiling fondly, Grissom spoke softly. "Just because you're into guys doesn't mean you can't still get into girls, too. So to speak."

"Are you? Into girls, I mean."

Chuckling, Grissom leaned back on his desk and crossed his arms. "I happen to think Catherine is attractive."

"Does Brass know that?" Nick grinned mischievously, finally feeling at least moderately in control again.

The hint of a fading smile traced the edges of Grissom's lips.

"Probably."

"So what is all this?"

Stepping closer, Grissom patted him on the shoulder and squeezed briefly before moving away. "It's just a friendly ear from someone who's been through the panic of finding out you're not as straight as you thought. Okay?"

Nick nodded, a bit stunned. "So, it's that obvious, huh?"

Smirking, Grissom turned away and circled back around his desk. "My gaydar is fully functional."

Shutting his eyes, Nick banged his head against the wall. "Oh, man. You've even got the lingo down."

"That surprises you?"

Focusing once again on his boss turned confidante, he shook his head. "I never really feel like I know you, man. Every time I think I might have a grasp on who you are, you reveal another layer and I realize that I don't really know you at all."

"Does anybody ever know anybody else? Really?"

"God, I hope so. It'd be a hell of a lonely world if we don't."

"Yes, it would be."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next night, Grissom assigned Warrick and him to a robbery. As everyone walked away, Nick looked back over his shoulder at his boss and could've sworn he saw a mysterious grin and a teasing glint in the blue eyes. He didn't blame Brass one little bit. Grissom was a good-looking man once you opened your eyes.

They gathered evidence together just as they did every other evening. Nick took pictures while Warrick dusted for prints, only they gave each other a lot of space to work where usually they thought nothing of brushing up against each other.

Finally, when the officer on the scene left the room, Warrick glanced up from his task. "Something's got to give here."

Nick took his shot before lowering the camera. "What do you mean?"

"I want my friend back."

"I'm right here."

If he hadn't been wearing gloves, Warrick probably would have crossed his arms over his chest, but as it was he propped the backs of both gloved hands on his hips. "You're acting like you're afraid I'm going to give you something."

"What do you want? Should I be in your back pocket or do we process the crime scene?"

Warrick pressed his lips together and frowned. "You know what? Forget it."

The officer picked that moment to walk back in, halting any further discussion. "How much longer you guys gonna be?"

Already irritated, Warrick snapped, "We get done when we get done."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nick liked people, but he also liked the solitude of the dark room, especially with the mess that was his life at the moment. If he made one wrong move, he could not only screw up his love life, but also lose one of his very best friends.

"Hurry up before you overexpose my film," he tersely called as someone opened the door.

"Sorry." Warrick quickly closed the door behind him and moved to stand on the opposite side of the developing trays. "How's it going?"

"Almost done." Nick faced away to hang several black and white shots on the line behind him.

"Look, man, I never took you for a homophobe."

"Huh?" Turning back around, Nick wondered where on earth that came from. "What are you talking about?"

"Last night. Ever since I said you knew how it felt to be a pretty boy, you've avoided me like a disease. Hell, you probably wouldn't have even spoken to me if Gris hadn't assigned us together. I'm sorry if the fact that I find you attractive bothers you—"

"Is that what you think?"

"It's what the evidence tells me, yeah."

"You know as well as I do that there can be more than one way to interpret the evidence."

"I'm not following."

Nick circled the counter housing the developing bins and leaned a hip against it, facing his friend. "It could also mean that I'm attracted to you, too, and that scares the hell out of me."

Lips moving as if he wanted to say something, Warrick stepped a bit closer. His intense, almost translucent eyes studied the other man. "Am I hearing what I think I'm hearing?"

"I think so." Just as Nick moved into Warrick's personal space, a loud clang out in the hall spooked him and he jumped back. "Coffee? After shift?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I think I'd like that."

Nick's arm tingled where Warrick's brushed against it on the way out.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Calling it a day, guys?" Grissom asked as he stepped out into the hall and locked his door.

Warrick nodded and Nick muttered, "Yeah."

"See you tonight then." As they walked away he mouthed, "Good luck," and smiled when Nick flushed.

"What?" Warrick asked.

"He knows."

"Knows what?"

"About... why I've been avoiding you."

Turning suddenly, Warrick watched Grissom walk down the hall in the opposite direction, an amused expression on his face. "You told him? What if he splits us up?"

"No, I didn't tell him. He guessed. He is good at his job, you know."

"How'd he react?"

"He was... oddly supportive, I think."

"Damn. Every time I think I have the guy figured out."

"Tell me about it."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"So." Sitting at his own table, Nick held his coffee cup with both hands, willing the heat to soothe his jangled nerves.

"So," Warrick repeated. Sighing, he reached across the table and pulled one of the other man's hands off the cup. He threaded their fingers together, gently rubbing the back of Nick's thumb with his own. "You okay with this?"

Nick blew out a shaky breath. "Yeah. Yeah, I think so."

"So, how long have you known you're, you know..."

Tilting his head to one side, Nick twisted his face into an expression of struggling to remember. "How long has it been since you said I was a pretty boy?"

Warrick immediately pulled back, rejoining their hands when they slipped loose. "You're joking, right?"

Nick shook his head. "Didn't have a clue. Then when I put my arm around you..." He made a hand gesture like going over a hill. "Gone, man."

"So, you're saying it's all physical."

Glancing up quickly, Nick shook his head. "Not at all. The last time I checked, friendship isn't based on physical attraction."

"Glad to hear it." After a weighted silence, Warrick spoke. "So, you still want to go forward with this thing?"

"I-I think so, yeah."

"You're not going to freak out on me once I fall good and hard, are you?"

Nick grimaced. "I can't give you any absolutes. I don't think I will, but this is unfamiliar territory, so who knows?"

"That's comforting."

"I'd understand if you don't want to pursue this."

"You're a lousy liar, Nicky."

"Don't even go there, Brown. Grissom can get by with it, but you don't sign my paycheck."

"Neither does Grissom, come to that."

"No, but he approves it." After a moment, he risked a brief glance at Warrick. "You think you could fall for me?"

"Definitely."

Nick smiled. "Cool."

"Look, why don't we get a little more comfortable?"

Nick's hand involuntarily tightened around Warrick's. "As in?"

Warrick stood, chuckling. "As in sitting on the couch. I'm not trying to get you naked just yet."

"Oh. Oh, okay."

Pulling Nick along by the hand, Warrick made an observation. "Have you noticed that you tend to repeat words when you're nervous?"

"I-I do?"

Grinning, Warrick sat down on the couch, patting the cushion next to him. He smiled when the other man sat very close.

"Yeah, I guess I do."

"You do." Warrick reached up and brushed a thumb across Nick's cheek.

"You think it'd be all right if I kissed you?"

Swallowing, Nick licked his lips and nodded. "I think so."

Sliding his hand around to the back of Nick's neck, Warrick tugged him closer. "Here goes."

Nick closed his eyes and held his breath until a pair of disarmingly soft lips brushed his own, a curious tongue bathing them and seeking entry. He parted his lips and felt the heat spread across his cheeks when he whimpered desperately, yearning for more contact from this man.

Skimming a thumb over his cheek, Warrick pulled back, licking his lips. "Still okay?"

Nick, a little dumfounded, just blinked at him, lips still parted and glistening. A moment later, he leaned forward jerkily, this time his tongue seeking entry into the other man's mouth. His breath caught when Warrick moaned and scooted down on the couch a little, forcing most of Nick's weight to fall forward onto him.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Drumming his fingers on the table next to the computer, Nick sighed as he waited for it to beep a match at him. He almost audibly groaned when his boss walked into the room and closed the door. That could not be a good sign.

Grissom seated himself diagonally from Nick on the opposite side of the table. "What have you got?"

"I'm running the prints Warrick lifted last night, but so far, no go."

"Patience, Nick."

"It just gets my hackles up when these lowlifes rob old people. Go rob a bank or something."

Grissom nodded. "Let me know if you come up with a match." Business done, the older man allowed the hint of a grin to twitch the edges of his mouth, but didn't say anything.

"What?"

"How'd it go?"

"You know, I think I liked it better when you were aloof."

Sliding off his stool, Grissom's expression went neutral. "Sorry. Didn't mean to pry. Just thought you might like to have somebody to talk to."

"Gil."

"Yes?" He stood in front of Nick, hands in the pockets of his baggy trousers.

"It went okay."

Returning to his perch, Grissom leaned his weight on his elbows. "Would you feel sexually harassed if I told you you're cute when you blush?"

"Would you feel sexually harassed if I told you Brass is a lucky man?"

"I'd feel complimented."

Nick had learned long ago that Gil Grissom was one of the only people he'd ever met who could take a compliment without letting it fluster him. He was secure in himself, which is something Nick didn't think he would ever accomplish.

"Thanks."

Grissom's brow furrowed. "For what?"

"Listening."

He reached across the table and lightly slapped Nick on the arm.

"That's what friends are for, right?"

Nodding almost to himself, Nick agreed. "Right. How's Brass?"

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"The other night?"

Gil chuckled. "He's sufficiently embarrassed."

"Tell him it's no big deal."

"I'd rather you told him."

"Will do."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nick caught sight of Brass whirling around the corner and then retreating almost like a fine machine in reverse. "Hey, Brass!"

The man stopped, but did not face him.

"Come on, man, look at me."

His expression pinched, the detective did as requested.

"It's cool, okay?"

Brow wrinkling, Brass turned his head but kept his eyes focused on Nick in a very Grissom-like gesture. "It is?"

"Yep." Nick slapped Brass on the arm, grinning. "How pissed was he?"

"Pissed enough."

"You're a lucky man."

"Yes, I am."

"Remember that," Nick said, jogging down the hall toward Sara, who stood waiting for him, impatiently checking her watch every few seconds. "I'm coming. Keep your pants on."

"What's the hold up?"

"I just had to ask Brass something. Would you chill?"

"My crime scene is aging, Nick."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lounging on his couch, Nick insinuated himself between Warrick's legs, back against the other man's chest. Half dozing and half listening to the previous night's football game, he laced the fingers of one hand through Warrick's. "This is nice."

He felt Warrick's smile against his cheek. "It ain't half bad."

"Better be more than that."

"Fishing for compliments, are we?"

"'s one way to get ‘em," he slurred, contentment pulling him under the veil of sleep.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Crick in his neck from supporting his lover, Warrick awoke suddenly when Nick yelled and launched from the couch. Their feet tangled, the other man fell with all of his weight on his wrist, the crack of the bone echoing ominously in the now quiet apartment.

"Nick!"

"Ah, God," he groaned and curled up into a defensive ball around the injured arm, sweat breaking out on his forehead.

Warrick carefully untangled their feet so as not to jar his lover and then climbed down onto the floor with him. "Let me see."

Rolling onto his back, pain etched itself into every pore of Nick's face. "Ah, man, I feel sick."

Remembering back to childhood, Warrick headed for the bathroom and retrieved a washcloth, bathing it in water as hot as he could stand. Wringing it, he returned to the living room and wiped the cloth over his pale lover's forehead and face.

"I think I broke it."

"No joke. You think you could stand?"

"Nope."

"Stay still then." Warrick situated himself in a classic meditation posture, worriedly eyeing the other man. "You want to tell me what happened?"

Nick shrugged, holding the injured appendage to his chest.

"Nightmare."

"That must have been one hell of a nightmare."

Eyelids fluttering closed, Nick said in a raspy voice, "You have no idea."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Warrick watched his lover sit on the emergency room bed, legs hanging off the side and swaying gently as Nick eyed his now drying cast. Alone as two people could be in an ER, he stepped forward and placed a hand on each side of Nick's thighs. "Are you going to tell me what this is about?" He jerked his head in the general direction of the cast.

Tears welled in Nick's eyes, but did not spill. "Not now, okay?"

The raspy voice struck him like a physical blow. "But you will tell me?"

Nick cleared his throat. "When I'm ready." His eyes shifted over Warrick's shoulder. "Hey, doc. You about ready to spring me?"

The gently aging man wearing a white coat eyed the two of them skeptically, but did not answer. To Warrick, he said, "I'm sorry, sir, but you'll have to go to the waiting room."

"I told you he's my partner and he's not going anywhere."

Warrick's anchored stance and the arms crossed over his chest confirmed his lover's words.

"I thought you meant like cop partners."

Nick nodded. "We work the same unit and we are technically officers."

"But that's not what you meant."

"Look, you can draw your own conclusions. It's been a very bad day and we're due to start our shift in a couple of hours and we've had less than an hour of sleep. So, if you'll spare me the bigotry and sign my release forms we'll be on our way."

"What does any of this have to do with your ability to practice medicine?" His face heating from anger, Warrick could deal with people picking on him, but not Nick. Never Nick.

"I'm not the one in question here."

"And just why should we give a damn about what some self-righteous prick thinks about our lifestyle choices?"

"Warrick—"

A hastily thrown out hand thwarted any further protests. "I've got this one."

The doctor's smile was not a pleasant one. He scribbled on his clipboard and handed the forms to Nick, not waiting to see if he took them before letting them go and disappearing into the next cubicle.

Glancing at his lover, Warrick found Nick with his head hanging forward and his eyes shut. "Nick?"

"That's Nicky to you."

Warrick shook his head and pulled his lover into an embrace. "Nah, leave that one for Gris. Makes me feel like I'm talking to a five-year-old."

"Hey, I was a cute kid."

"Modest, too."

"I'll have to show you the evidence next time we go to Texas."

"We?"

Nick lifted his head, eyes glittering. "I'm falling for you, Warrick.

Anybody that doesn't like it can stick it where the sun don't shine."

Chuckling, Warrick ran a thumb across Nick's cheek. "Nickitude. I like it."

"Good thing because you're going to be hearing a lot of it."

"Suits me."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Grissom passed Nick in the hallway before shift and almost missed how bad he looked. "Nick?"

The younger man turned to face him, dark circles under his eyes and a purplish bruise extending diagonally on one side of his forehead. "Yeah?" Not even on the clock yet, he sounded exhausted.

"What the hell happened?" Grissom stepped closer.

Glancing downward, Nick shrugged. "The floor flew up and hit me. It doesn't fight fair."

His lips pressing firmly together, Grissom gripped the sleeve of Nick's shirt and tugged. "Follow me."

The younger man sighed, but allowed himself to be led into Grissom's office and waited for his boss to shut the door.

"I want the truth this time, Nicky." The tone brooked no argument.

"I told you the truth last time. I tripped and fell. My wrist broke and I hit my head when I pulled it out from under me."

"Did he do this?"

Nick shook his head. "Who?"

"Don't play coy with me, young man." Anger built in his gut like he hadn't felt in ages. "Did Warrick hit you?"

"Warrick? Why would he hit me?"

"Why don't you tell me? Better yet, why don't I ask him myself." Grissom headed for the door, the husky words halting him where he stood.

"Don't you dare."

Turning toward his subordinate, Grissom watched fury build in the dark brown eyes. "To my knowledge, Warrick has never lifted a finger toward anyone except in the line of duty."

"He has a temper."

"Yeah, he does. I saw the evidence of it in the ER tonight when the doctor was giving us shit about being together. But it wasn't directed at me. Quite the opposite actually."

Grissom pointed a finger at Nick. "If I find out that he was in any way involved in your injuries—"

Jabbing his own finger toward his boss, Nick stepped forward, anger radiating from his body in waves. "Don't you even suggest that to him. He already feels responsible for me falling."

"How so?"

"I tripped over his feet."

"He tripped you?"

"Will you listen to yourself? What ever happened to examining the evidence and then drawing a conclusion? You already have him tried and convicted."

A knock sounded on the door and Warrick poked his head in. "Nick, you might want to lower your voice. People are starting to stare."

"Get in here."

Warrick frowned at his lover's angry tone, but did as requested and shut the door.

Nick pointed at their boss. "He thinks you've been using me for a punching bag."

"What?" Totally stunned, Warrick studied his boss, hooking his thumbs into the belt loops of his pants. Turning back toward Nick, he lowly said, "I thought he knew, you know."

"About us? Yeah, and I think that's precisely why he thinks what he does."

Warrick moved to Nick's side and placed a hand on the small of his back, his voice gentle. "Would you calm down? You're going to have an aneurysm or something."

Allowing his fondness of Nick to stop clouding his judgment, Grissom watched the play between his CSIs. Nick didn't so much as blink an eye when Warrick stepped close to him. An abused or afraid person would shrink away or at the very least flinch or steel himself. He saw no evidence of any of it.

"Gris? What's going on here?"

Leaning back against his desk, he sighed defeatedly. "I've made a terrible mistake. I apologize to you both."

"You're damn right you did," Nick hissed.

"Nick." Warrick looked at Grissom. "I can see where he's coming from, although I'm not exactly thrilled that he doesn't think any more of me than that."

"How can you possibly see where the hell this is coming from?"

Warrick moved behind his lover and ran soothing hands up and down the other man's upper arms. "Nick, calm the hell down and listen to me."

Jerkily, Nick turned his head to the side, indicating that he was listening. "Gris knows we just got uh... together and a couple days later you show up with a broken bone and bruises. Not to mention I'm sure we both look like shit from no sleep."

"That's no excuse."

"Nick. You're not that unforgiving."

The youngest man in the room glared at his boss, although addressing his lover. "When it comes to you, I am."

"Nick, I'm sorry." It didn't escape Grissom's notice that Nick flinched when he spoke. "You just scream abuse victim to me and I don't want to see you go through it again."

"Nobody will ever lay a finger on me again without my consent unless they want to come up with a nub."

"Again?" Warrick squeaked.

"Later." With that, Nick marched out the door, slamming it behind him.

Warrick shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged. "Give him some time."

"Thanks."

"For?"

"Not holding an old man's bad judgment against him."

"I'm not happy with the fact that you think I would ever raise a hand to someone I care about, but conversely I'm glad you're looking out for him."

At a loss for words, Grissom just nodded. Finally, a thought occurred to him. "How much did you hear in the hallway?"

"No sweat. Just the tried and convicted part."

"The boy's got it bad, Warrick. I've never seen him so angry."

"That makes two of us."

"Don't hurt him."

"I don't intend to."

"Good, because the others would never let you live it down when you got your ass kicked by an old man."

Chuckling, Warrick shook his head. "Never happen."

"Like to lay down a bet?"

"That's cold, man."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Warrick rolled over and reached out for his lover, only to find a cold sheet. He gave his eyes time to adjust and glanced around the dark room, but came up empty. Sighing, he pushed his legs over the side of the bed and just sat for a moment, trying to convince his fatigued body that it was time to wake up and check on Nick. Noticing the teal silk boxers haphazardly draped across the chair in the corner, he stood and pulled them on to avoid making the other man feel pressured to consummate their relationship.

Scratching his head, he dragged his feet out into the living room, which wasn't any brighter due to his room darkening shades. Tiny slivers of light peeking around the edges indicated the time of day to be full sun—time for all good night shift CSIs to be cuddled up in bed, fast asleep. Preferably together.

He reached for the switch on a dim lamp, jumping half out of his skin when a raspy voice ordered, "Don't."

"Okay." Hand dropping back to his side, he padded across the floor toward the voice. Squinting, he discovered Nick sitting on the floor with his back leaned up against the couch, minus a shirt. "Why are you sitting in the floor?"

Pale shoulders shrugged. "Felt like it."

God, if he didn't get some sleep soon, he might just keel over. But, instead, he situated himself on the couch behind his lover, his legs cradling the other man. "What's up?"

"We are."

"Why are we up?"

Nick laid his head on a muscular thigh, almost curling into his lover when strong hands massaged his shoulders.

"You are tense."

"I can't help it."

"Can't help what?"

"Doesn't it bother you that he thought you were abusing me? Where does he get off saying stuff like that?"

Gently squeezing the tight shoulders, Warrick leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on Nick's cheek before speaking. "What's more important to me is that he was trying to look out for you even at the cost of alienating one of his team. That scored some major points with me."

"Scored points? It doesn't bother you that he thinks because you have a temper, you're just going to punch my lights out when I piss you off?"

Warrick sighed, sliding his arms around a torso that felt too cold for his liking. "I'm not exactly happy about it, but the fact remains that he had your best interest at heart. Try to cut him some slack. I get the feeling that he thinks of you like his kid."

"The fact remains that Gil had no right to make assumptions like—"

Stiffening, Warrick momentarily forgot that he was out here to comfort his lover, not grill him. "Gil? Did I just hear you call Grissom ‘Gil'?"

Nick shrugged. "Well, yeah. I can't exactly think of him as my boss when he calls me into his office and tells me I'm pingin' his gaydar and I should tell you how I feel, now can I?"

"He said that?"

"Yeah. Thing is, I never gave him a second look until I found out that he had a gaydar."

Studying his lover's profile, Warrick tried not to let the little green monster in his chest cause him to resent his boss. "And now?"

"He's a damn good-looking man. For an old guy."

"Should I be worried?"

Laughing, Nick half turned and latched onto Warrick's lips like a baby suckling a nipple. "Not hardly," he said when he broke the kiss and returned to his earlier position. "Besides, he's off the market."

He just had to push. "And if he ever becomes available?"

"He can find somebody else. I'm taken."

Warrick released a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding when Nick squeezed his arms and rubbed their cheeks together, the sting of beard burn making him groan.

"I'm scared."

That kicked Warrick's protective mode into overdrive. "Of what?"

"I-- I'm falling in love with you."

Nibbling on the other man's ear, Warrick rumbled, "I'm already in love with you. Have been for a long time." He could have sworn he actually felt the other man's frown.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Oh, yeah. I'm going over here to dust for prints and, by the way, I want to stick it where the sun doesn't shine."

Nick laughed right out loud, a truly beautiful sound. "If you're going for redneck, you need to get the grammar right... or wrong, as the case may be. It's stick it where the sun don't shine, not doesn't."

"As long as I get to stick it, you can say it however the hell you want." At Nick's prolonged silence, he berated himself for his loose tongue, afraid he'd pushed things too far. A fingertip began drawing designs along his forearm and he had to admit it felt pretty damn good.

"I don't think I'm ready for that just yet."

"There's no hurry."

"I'm sorry." Nick squeezed Warrick's arms again as if trying to absorb them into his own torso. "I feel like I'm acting like a blushing virgin."

Warrick gently plopped his chin on top of Nick's head. "In a way, I guess you are, never having been with a man before."

"If that was supposed to make me feel better, it failed miserably."

Tugging on Nick's chin, Warrick said, "Look at me." When his lover did, he pinned him with his eyes. "I'm here when you decide you want me, however long that takes."

Nick swallowed, blinking rapidly, his voice husky. "Thanks." He reached for a kiss, which Warrick returned with interest.

Leaning his forehead against his lover's, Warrick attempted to explain his feelings. "I want you so bad I can't stand it sometimes, but that's nothing new. I'm a big boy. I can take care of it when it gets to be too much." His cheeks heated, but it was too dark for Nick to notice. "Truth be told, I kind of like the tension. It feels pretty good to be so close, but just out of reach."

"So, you like to be teased?" Nick whispered a little breathlessly.

"Relentlessly."

Shuddering, Nick's swallow was audible in the quiet apartment. "I think I'm more turned on right now than I ever have been in my life."

"What do you want to do about it?"

"Honestly? I want to roll onto my back and spread my legs."

Warrick groaned helplessly and kissed his lover briefly.

"But I don't think I'm quite ready for that."

"Want me to blow you?"

Nick gasped. "You'd do that?"

"In a heartbeat."

"Oh, God."

A calculating grin spread across Warrick's face and he decided to test his theory. "I'd lick you from balls to head, like you were the best candy I'd ever tasted."

Nick hiccupped a breath, frozen in place, his body no longer cold, but putting off heat like a furnace.

"Are you cut?"

Whimpering, Nick nodded.

"Good. I like cut cocks the best." Allowing his breath to gently caress his lover's ear, he made an observation. "You love it when I talk nasty, don't you?"

Still frozen, Nick held onto Warrick's arms as if they were those of his savior. "Uh... uh-huh."

"So I guess I'm not the only one who likes to be teased?"

"No." After a moment, he blurted, "I have to go to the bathroom," and jumped to his feet.

Placing two fingers in Nick's back pocket, Warrick trailed along behind him. "Too bad your jerking off hand is broken."

That stopped Nick so suddenly that Warrick bumped into him, and proceeded to lick the outer shell of his ear. "Come on. Let's see if I can help you out." He led his almost skittish, but helplessly turned on lover into the bathroom, the night light plugged in above the sink bathing their mirrored reflections in a surreal glow.

Nick's black eyes watched as Warrick unsnapped his pajama bottoms and pushed them over the slender hips to pool around his feet. "You can stop this at any time, but I want you to watch me touch you."

"Oh, God, Warrick."

"Shh. Only if you want me to stop." Nick nodded jerkily, whimpering as both Warrick's hands plucked at his nipples, almost swaying from the loss of blood to his brain.

Satisfied that the nubs were sufficiently hard, Warrick skimmed his hands down across his lover's trembling belly, stopping to take in their reflection. "You want it so bad, don't you? Want me to touch you like only a man can."

"Please."

Moving in closer, Warrick grinned at his lover's reflection seductively, rubbing his own satin covered cock against that sweet bare ass. Plastering himself to the other man's back, he reached around and weighed the balls trying to draw up toward Nick's body, smiling at the groan as he tugged them back down. His other hand played in the abundantly leaking fluid running down the stiff flesh of his cock.

"Uh," Nick whimpered when Warrick's hand closed around him.

"You still want this?"

"Yes," Nick hissed, moving his hands back to pull Warrick closer, wantonly rubbing his ass against his lover's cock.

Damn. Virgin to whore in 0.2 seconds.

Trying to ignore his own arousal, Warrick very slowly moved his fist up and down, learning quickly that Nick's breath caught every time he touched the rim of the head. As the other man's face and chest flushed a deep crimson, Warrick focused on just that spot, only moving his hand a couple of centimeters. His lover stood up on his toes and pulled Warrick's overheated cock against him, white fluid arcing up into the air, one stream landing on the mirror and running down. That was the last thing Warrick remembered as he shuddered his release, his lover almost rutting back against him to make it even sweeter.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Grissom knocked on the open door frame of the lab where Nick stood processing an angora blanket. "Nick?"

His subordinate glanced up from his work momentarily and then continued. "Yeah?"

"Am I even close to being off your black list?"

Closing the cylindrical tube around the cotton swab, he slid it into the box and labeled it. "You used your position as my boss to railroad my personal life. Don't let it happen again."

"We're no longer friends outside CSI, I take it."

Nick glanced toward the door, making sure they didn't have an audience. "When we're talking about personal matters, we're just Nick and Gil. Don't cross that line again and we'll be cool."

"I am sorry."

A gloved hand waved in a dismissive gesture. "Warrick says you had my best interest in mind, so it's water under the bridge. But, I'm a big boy, Gil. Trust me to handle myself, okay?"

"I do." A moment later, he chuckled.

Puzzled, Nick frowned. "What?"

Shaking his head, Gil shrugged. "It's just ironic. I would have thought you to be his stabilizing influence and it turns out that his influence over you saved my ass."

Nick smiled wickedly to himself.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing, sir." He looked up at his boss with a twinkle in his eye. "I'll report to you as soon as I have the results of these swabs."

His expression suspicious, Grissom skated the line between boss and friend. "Do you think that many swabs are really necessary?"

The determined look on Nick's face halted any further argument.

"I was right about the abuse."

Nick quickly glanced toward the door again, his expression clouding.

"She's not going to get away with it this time."

"If you're too close I can assign someone else to assist Catherine."

"Don't." His voice raspy, he shook his head. "I'm on it."

"All right. I'm going to trust you to let me know if you get too close to this case."

"Will do."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Warrick?"

He hastily pulled an athletic shirt over his head before heading out to meet his lover. "Right here, man."

Nick took a shaky step toward him and just stood there, his foot digging at the carpet in one particular spot.

"Something happen on your way home?"

A negative shake of the head.

"Are you hurt?"

A shrug.

"Nick, man, talk to me."

"I-" His lover glanced up at him and then back away. "I think I'm ready to tell you now." He punctuated his words by lifting his broken wrist.

Quickly pushing the other man's jacket from his shoulders, Warrick threw it on a nearby chair and led him to the couch. He sat down first and faced his lover, joining their hands that lay along the back of the couch.

Nick took a deep breath and released it slowly. "I was nine."

Stars swam in Warrick's vision and he didn't know if he could bear to hear this. For Nick, he would do it.

"She was a last minute baby sitter."

The air in the room thinned as if they stood on top of Mount Everest.

"She held me down."

Briefly closing his eyes, Warrick attempted to swallow past the lump in his throat as he lifted their hands and kissed the back of Nick's.

"A person's first sexual experience shouldn't be taken like that." A single tear spilled down each pale cheek, Nick swiping at them impatiently.

"No, it shouldn't." Tears threatened Warrick as well and he cleared his throat. "Come here."

Doing as bidden, Nick scooted forward and Warrick wrapped him in awkward embrace.

"She said that if I told anyone, she'd tell them I raped her."

"Bitch." Warrick hugged his lover tighter and Nick returned the fierce embrace.

"I wasn't sure what rape was, but I knew it was bad. So, I asked my dad what it meant."

"What'd you do?"

Nick's voice broke on the single word. "Nothing." After a long while, he soberly spoke, his voice almost detached. "I never told anyone until Catherine last night."

"Catherine?"

"She threatened to have me removed from the case because I was out of line." Nick rubbed his head against Warrick's shoulder hard, almost like he was trying to burrow under the skin. "I can remember staring at the door waiting for my mom to get home, but when she got there I choked. I was too afraid to tell her." A sob escaped, but he swallowed it down. "I didn't want to disgrace the family."

"Let it out, Nick. You've got to let it go."

For the first time in twenty-one years, he did just that. He held onto Warrick and silently cried, his shoulders jerking with the impact of emotion.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nick strolled into the break room thirty minutes before shift start, surprised to find his boss there. "Hey."

Jumping, Grissom pulled his eyes away from his book and looked at Nick over the top of his glasses, which had slid down on his nose. "Hey."

Nick plopped onto a chair and sighed. "I've got a confession to make."

Placing a bookmark on his page, Grissom regarded him, folding his hands together. "Oh?"

Nick mirrored the action. "Catherine probably already told you about it."

Pinching his eyebrows together, Grissom shook his head. "She told me that you two solved the case, that the mother and the psychiatrist murdered the boy during some type of ‘rebirthing' ritual."

"Remember I told you I could handle myself?"

"Yes."

"I blew it."

"How so?"

"I let my emotions get in the way instead of letting the evidence lead me."

"Yet you still managed to solve the case."

Nick nodded. "Yeah, but I told you to back off and I just wanted you to know that I realize maybe you had your reasons."

Gil's lips twisted into a lopsided grin and he held out his hand.

"Truce?"

"Truce." Shaking his friend's hand, Nick felt like a huge load just got dumped off his shoulders.

"I'm proud of you."

"What for?"

"For coming to me and admitting that you were wrong. It takes a real man to do that."

Nick nodded, grateful for the lack of censure. "Takes one to know one."

Familiar footsteps moved into the room behind him. "There you are. I've been looking for you all over the place."

Tilting his head back, Nick studied his lover upside down. Funny. He was still handsome even though he looked like a donkey when he talked. "What's up?"

Warrick pointed back over his shoulder toward the hall. "Brass just brought Dr. Phelps in."

Righting his head, Nick turned quickly and raised his broken wrist.

"Dr. Phelps as in the ER doctor?"

A slow smile spread across Warrick's lips. "That'd be the one."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nick thought Brass looked beat as he reached for the doorknob to the interrogation room, but he always managed to look that way even though he dressed very nice.

"Hey, Brass!"

The detective tilted his head back and raised his eyebrows in an inquisitive gesture while waiting for them to reach him.

"What's the deal with Phelps?"

"You know this clown?"

"Yeah." Lifting his cast, he continued. "He patched me up and gave me shit about my lifestyle."

Looking past Nick's shoulder at Warrick when he cleared his throat, Brass repeated one word. "Lifestyle?"

Nick leaned close to avoid anyone over hearing. "When he figured out that I meant Warrick was more than my work partner."

The wheels visibly turned in Brass' brain until light dawned. Warrick simply kicked the back of Nick's shoe and gave him a "wait until I get your ass alone" glare.

"That's why everything's cool with me," he whispered.

"Waaaaaaaait a minute," Warrick chimed in. "Him and—"

"Yep." Nick smiled. "Why do you think me and Grissom have been so chummy lately?"

Brass grimaced. "Yeah, me and my big mouth sort of let the cat out of the bag."

Warrick shook his head. "I'm not believing this."

Jerking a thumb toward the interrogation room, Brass said, "Wait ‘til you get a load of this guy. He has two wives and a mistress on the side. Mistress confronts wife number one and boom. Fireworks."

Nick scratched his arm just under the cast. "Do you mind if I sit in on the interrogation?"

Shaking his head, Brass held a hand out. "Lead the way."

"I'll just stand out here and watch."

"Yeah, you're good at that," Nick teased, smiling evilly at the wide-eyed expression his lover wore.

"You're cruisin' man."

"Promises, promises."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Relaxing on the couch with his feet propped up on the coffee table, Nick shook his head. "I can't believe he had the gall to lecture us."

"It's been my experience that those that scream the loudest are usually trying to cover their own faults."

Nick looked down at his lap, where Warrick's head lay. "Sometimes. And sometimes the quiet ones are just as scary because when they explode, there's a lot of collateral damage."

"True." After a few stretched moments of silence, Warrick posed a question. "Are you going to see somebody?"

Frowning, a dozen emotions flitted across Nick's face. "I thought I was seeing you. You want to see other people?"

Warrick reached up and tapped Nick on the back of the head. "No, you dope. I meant are you going to see a therapist."

"Oh. Oh!" Nick shrugged. "I don't think so."

"You should talk to somebody."

"I have a real problem with telling a total stranger my problems."

Placing a hand on Warrick's chest, he picked at the lint on his shirt. "I sort of figured that when I need to I could talk to you. If that's all right."

"I'd be honored."

"I'm okay, though."

"You sure?" Concern carried the quiet words and wrapped them around Nick's heart.

"It's been a long time, man. It did feel good to finally tell somebody. I don't feel like I'm walking around harboring a deep, dark secret anymore."

Warrick took Nick's hand in his own and rested them both on his chest.

"Are you referring to me or Catherine?"

"I told Catherine because I had to. I told you because I wanted to."

"You know you can tell me anything."

Nick blinked rapidly, his eyes suddenly too moist. "I know." He wanted to tell Warrick that he, too, could tell him anything, but he was afraid Warrick would think he was just saying it to be reciprocal. When the time was right, he'd tell him. "I love you, you know."

"Feeling's mutual."

Sitting with this man's head in his lap, Nick felt as loved and happy as he ever had in his entire life. The future looked pretty good all of a sudden.

END